


Your Worst Nightmare

by figooza990



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Depression, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-09-18 18:18:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9397313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/figooza990/pseuds/figooza990
Summary: Harley gets kicked out by Joker and has nowhere to go, so she turns to an old friend of hers. She trusted him once... kind of. Might as well give it another try.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This first prologue is all flashbacks.

Crane would always remember the first day that'd he'd met her. At the time, he'd never guessed that this strange girl sitting across from him would have any affect on his life other than mild and passing amusement, but it also wasn't the first time he;d ever been wrong.

 

"Call me Harley. Everyone does!" The smiling intern said, sitting across the desk from Jonathan. He'd thought her odd from the moment he'd seen her, and talking to her had only reaffirmed his original opinions. Her shrill voice and poorly-hidden accent hurt Dr. Crane's ears quite a bit, and she gave off the countenance of an over excited puppy, and the appearance of a vapid city girl.

 

"I'd rather not, thank you. And you are sure that you want to work here, Miss Quinzel?" he asked, scanning over her file.

 

"I'm certain, Dr. Crane. There's just something fascinating about these super-criminal minds. I've always been drawn to extreme personalities. There's such a glamor to them." She said, leaning forward excitedly.

 

"Yes. I do suppose there is something to be said about them… They can be quite… unpredictable." Jonathan Crane was very interested in this new intern. Despite her appearance and ways of speech, she was smart, certainly. Her work was well thought out and creative, and she could hold a solid conversation about very abstract theories.

 

"So am I in?" She asked, smiling sweetly.

 

"I believe that you are. Good luck, _Dr._ Quinzel _._ " He smiled at her, and handed her the files of three inmates for her to work with. She rifled through the pages, crinkling paper drowning out the quiet of the room.

 

She flipped to the last one and stopped, looking back up with wide, blue eyes. "The Joker? I mean- are you sure? he's such a high profile-"

 

“Yes, I'm certain. I want to give you some challenges while you're here, and I think you can handle it.”

 

“But he's so-”

 

"Do you not think you can handle it?" Dr. Crane asked, smirking up at her in a challenging way. Her face stiffened and she jutted out her chin. He made a mental note of her behavior.

 

_Challenges. They_ always _work_ _on the young ones_ _._ Dr. Crane thought.

 

"I can do it. I'll _cure_ The Joker," she said. As the door to his office closed, Jonathan leaned back in his chair, compiling the traits he'd noticed about her in his head. This intern would be interesting to work with.

 

He wondered how long she'd last.

 

* * *

 

Later that week, the new intern ended up in his office again.

 

"Doctor Crane?"

 

"What is it, Doctor Quinzel? I'm afraid I only have a minute." He had a meeting he had to be to in less than five minutes.

 

"Please, call me Harley," She said, sitting down across the desk from him. "I just wanted to ask a question about Julie Reynolds… the patient from the A wing."

 

"The Catatonic? Yes. She just came in last week. I assume your session went well?"

 

"Well… I believe she also suffers from Diogenes Syndrome. She is refusing help of any type, and she's been collecting _dust bunnies_ and other equally strange things _on purpose._ It sounds like hoarding, which is alarming. She also-" Jonathan Crane nodded and held up a hand.

 

"I apologize for cutting you off, but I do need to leave. This really may be more serious than we first believed," Dr. Crane muttered, cleaning off his glasses. "Her last therapist didn't see any problems… he thought that she was just refusing her mental state. Is that all, Miss Quinzel?”

 

"Well… shouldn't we start new treatments?"

 

"I plan to. I'm taking her off of your list and moving her to a full-time therapist in the B wing. She'll likely be here until she dies, sadly. But that is the way things tend to be with Diogenes. You are certain of this, correct?"

 

He looked up to see Harley biting her lip nervously. Classic self doubt- He knew she was right. He'd been watching over her patients. He'd come to the exact same conclusion.

 

Harley finally nodded and stood back up. "Thank you for your help, Doctor Crane.”

 

“Oh- There's one more thing I wanted to ask you,” He said, gesturing for her to sit down again. Crane looked down at his watch and sighed. He'd be late, but that wouldn't be too much of an issue. He was trusted enough that he could get away with it. This would be far more interesting and useful than anything in the meeting anyways. “How are your sessions with The Joker going?”

 

“Slow. He spends most of the time joking around with me or even just babbling nonsense. He seems reluctant to answer any questions I have.”

 

“Ah. He does that with many therapists. Do not worry. It's normal.”

 

He couldn't help but smile. She was lying to him. The Joker had spoken quite openly with her- not about anything useful, or anything new, but still just as openly as he was speaking with her now.

 

“I'm going to keep trying- I don't know what else to do.”

 

“That's the right mindset to have, Dr. Quinzel.” Crane gathered his papers and stood up. “Thank you for meeting with me. We'll talk soon.

“Thank you, Dr. Crane,” She said, standing up and walking out of the room, her steps quick and light.

 

It wasn't very often that an intern impressed him in their first week.

 

* * *

 

"Dr. Quinzel, How have your sessions with the Joker been going?" Dr. Crane asked after her first two weeks of being an intern.

 

"He is showing signs of Anti-social-personality disorder, as well as Hypomania as far as I can tell," Harley replied, shrugging.

 

"And do you think that we are helping him?" Crane asked, staring at her coldly.

 

"I... couldn't say yet..." She sighed, rubbing her temples. "He's such a confusing patient. I feel like he's getting better, but I also just feel like we're moving so slowly, it's almost like treading water."

 

"I understand exactly where you are coming from," Crane said, sitting down to talk with the girl. "I have sessions with and ASPD patient, and we are getting nowhere. I am considering sending him to a higher-class asylum for extensive care that we don't offer here."

 

"It's just... The Joker shows no remorse for what he's done. It's been nearly impossible to diagnose him, let along know if it's possible to cure him. He keeps shifting his stories and changing the topic... I can't get him to tell me anything about his childhood or his relations with anyone! I'm not certain he even had a childhood or any friends." Harley ranted, drumming her fingers on the desk. She needed to vent to someone. Might as well be someone who understood.

 

"We aren't even sure if The Joker remembers his past at all," Dr. Crane said, attempting to make Harley feel better. “He's told different psychologists different accounts, all similar, but large details keep changing.”

 

“He has?” Harley sighed and rubbed her temples. “But he..”

 

"I'm going to transfer him to another psychiatrist," Dr. Crane said, nodding. "He is obviously stressing you out." He started to scribble a note to himself.

 

"Please don't. I feel... I feel like I'm actually getting somewhere with him, just slowly. I just needed to talk it over with someone. Please, just let me keep on trying. I promised you I'd cure him on my first day, remember?" Harley said, a spark igniting in her blue eyes.

 

"Are you sure, Dr. Quinzel?" Crane asked, staring at her over his glasses.

 

"Yes. I _will_ cure The Joker."

 

* * *

 

Crane had found his interest in the new intern only growing with each passing day. The way she walked, laughed, spoke... everything was interesting to him.

 

She was brilliant. Smarter than many of his coworkers. He'd already promised her a job once she graduated, but she still had a long way to go before then.

 

He just imagined them working side-by-side forever. He wanted it dearly, more than anything else.

 

It was something he never would've thought that he'd want.

 

Dr. Quinzel had been working at Arkham for a two months now. She had gone through several patients. Some were declared sane, while others were transferred to new doctors. The only one that she had kept for the entire time was The Joker. He kept watching, seeing what she did. She handled it very well, bt he was starting to worry. The Joker kept trying to get her to do _something,_ but he didn't know what it was yet.

 

He was starting to worry that they'd lose her. He'd first assigned her the Joker because he'd wanted to see it happen, to watch her life crumble before her eyes because of a man locked in a cell. But now, he just wanted to see her smile every day. He wanted to see her working and thriving.

 

He had to end it. He couldn't lose her.

 

He'd left something in Joker's cell, just a key hidden under his pillow. Joker had used that to his advantage and fled the scene without another word. He'd only been declared missing an hour ago.

 

He'd be back before too long. Jonathan could send easily send the police an anonymous note about his hiding places. He'd been compiling a list from what he'd figured out from his own minimal conversations with the Joker.

 

The door to his office opened, and  a familiar voice filled the room. “You wanted to see me, Dr. Crane?”

 

"Ah, thank you. Please sit down. I wanted to talk o you about The Joker,” He said. Her eyes widened, but she nodded and sat down next to her.

 

"The Joker? What about him?"

 

"He's gone. He seems to have escaped.”

 

“Escaped... but he promised that-” She cut herself off suddenly, then began to speak again in a quieter voice. “He said he wouldn't' do that. He told me that he wanted to get better!”

 

“He's promised a lot. He hasn't kept a single one of them,” Crane said, rolling his eyes.

 

"I suppose I should write that up on his file?" she asked, biting her lip.

 

"That won't be necessary. I am transferring The Joker to a different Psychologist when he returns," Doctor Crane stated, looking at his watch. He had to leave soon. He didn;t want drama, if he could avoid it.

 

"But I was making so much progress with him! Why stop now?" She asked, her voice near to a whine.

 

"Because he has killed more therapists than I would like to admit. It's dangerous for a novice like you to continue working with him. He;s obviously lied to you and manipulated you, and I can't let it go any further. You'll be killed.”

 

"If he's so dangerous, why did you assign him to me in the first place?" Harley demanded, slamming her fist onto her desk.

 

He stopped for a second. The truth was that he wanted to scare her, to see her crumble under the stress. He couldn't tell her that, could he?

 

He decided to only tell her a part of it. To twist the full truth. "I wanted to scare you. Most interns don't realize the… strain that their job imposes. So I gave you a patient who could get into your mind. One who could show you exactly what we deal with in Arkham."

 

"But I wasn't scared. He never did anything to harm me, mentally or otherwise," She said, suddenly confused. “The most he's done was not keep a promise...”

 

"I know. That is _exactly_ how he is getting into your head. You'll be given Pamela Isley instead. I'm certain you've heard of her. It should fill your need for a 'big personality'."

 

Harley sighed and nodded, feeling tears well up. She wouldn't cry in front of her boss.

 

“Goodbye, Dr. Quinzel. I apologize for leading you astray.

 

* * *

 

Nighttime at Arkham was something that normally scared people.

 

It was thrilling to Jonathan Crane. The shadows, the screaming… it all was beautiful. So much knowledge lay waiting in the dark… waiting for him to stumble upon it.

 

His tests had overtaken his life. He rarely thought of anything else now. He'd only been able to drive one man to the breaking point, but it just proved that it was possible. His formula would be perfected one day, then the world could be changed for the better. After all, what is the life of a few criminals as payment for a full understanding of the world's greatest power?

 

_"_ _F_ _ear."_ The word rolled off his tongue smooth as silk and cold as ice. The word held power. The poor patient squirmed as he took the syringe in his hand, filled with what he was sure would be a success. So many hallucinogens... so much funding behind this one drug… it was almost as if that syringe was filled with his own life force.

 

But isn't that what fear is? To fear is to survive another day, and to never fear is to die. Fear was ingrained in people _because_ it kept people alive.

 

The needle slipped easily into the patient, who gasped at the pain. He watched as the toxin entered her bloodstream… and he waited. Waited for success.

 

"What..?" The woman gasped, her pupils dilating dramatically almost immediately. "Where did…" She stopped speaking, breathing heavily. Then she screamed.

 

Crane smiled beneath his mask. The toxin was more fast-acting than his last had been. So long as the effects lasted for more than a few seconds, this formula would be a great basis for many new ones.

 

So many possibilities riding on this one singular test.

 

She looked about her as if surrounded and screamed again. Crane stuffed a rag into her mouth, and stood back, observing her motions.

 

Then he heard the door close behind him.

 

He whipped around, feeling his heart rate rise dramatically. He ran to the door, his long, spindly legs taking him there in only a few strides. He whipped the door open and held his needle tightly. He really didn't want to get rid of a body tonight, but what had to be done had to be done.

 

He looked down the hallway, only to see his new intern sprinting down the hallway as fast as she could.

 

He sighed. This would be even harder to cover up than if it had been the night guard. She wasn't even supposed to be here anymore.

 

He couldn't kill her anyways. He'd grown to respect her too much. He was fairly certain that his other coworkers would drive him insane if she wasn't there.

 

"Dr. Quinzel? What are you doing down here?" He said, trying to keep his voice cool and calm. The intern looked back, her blue eyes wide as he approached her. He was frozen to her spot as she looked up at him.

 

He'd never felt so tall as he did now. Her fear filled him with energy. Power surged through his blood like never before.

 

She'd never looked so beautiful to him as she did now.

 

"I-I just needed s-some p-painkillers..." She stammered out. He removed his mask, smiling as her eyes widened again. “Dr. Crane? ...What are you doing?" She asked quietly, glancing back at the door. Muffled screams were coming from behind it.

 

"Succeeding," Dr. Crane said, "Greatly succeeding." He released her shoulder and stared her in the eyes. "You are a bright girl, Dr. Quinzel. I'd rather not have to get rid of you. So are you going to keep this little run-in a secret?"

 

"This isn't right, Dr. Crane. Whatever you're doing, it's hurting others," Harley said, furrowing her brow.

 

"Alright then… perhaps we could trade. You keep my secret, I'll keep yours," he offered. Harley looked up at him, her eyes betraying herself.

 

He already knew that she'd been sneaking in to see the Joker, but now she'd all but admitted it.

 

"I don't know what you mean, Dr. Crane. I have nothing to hide," She said, smiling nervously. He'd seen her manipulate the other workers into doing little tasks for her, bu now that she was under stress, her skills seemed to have dissolved. He shook his head.

 

"Perhaps I am thinking of another one of my interns who sneaks into the C wing late at night to visit cell 44." Harley stepped backwards, shaking her head.

 

“I haven't been-”

 

"I've known from the beginning," he said, a sinister smile spreading across his face.

 

"And you never exposed me... why?" She asked.

 

"I never exposed you, no." He stopped there, not even sure about why he didn't report it. It was more than enough to get her fired for good and ruin her career. He normally would have enjoyed watching her life spin out of control after that.

 

Hut there was something different about her. He didn't want her to leave. She was the only coworker that he was excited to see most days.

 

Harley looked down, hiding her blue eyes behind her bangs, before looking back up at him, something shining in them that stood out from the fear that he'd seen in them only moments ago. Determination? It was hard for him to to say.

 

"Deal. I… I won't tell," Harley said quickly before turning her face away from her boss. "May I please have some painkillers, though? The Joker just used my last one."

 

Jonathan Crane sighed as he handed her the pill and watched her run off. There was now a loose end that he couldn't quite bring himself to take care of. It'd be easy to finish her off. Flood her office with some potent toxin and wait for her to die from heart failure. Simple, easy, and almost untraceable. Sure, the toxin itself would be easy to find, but who could trace it to him? The crime was flawless, easy. It was power.

 

But he couldn't do it. Jonathan Crane had always thought his heart cold and dark, but he was wrong.

 

_She_ was brilliant. _She_ was beautiful. _She_ was manipulative. _She_ was perfect.

 

_Somehow, The Master of Fear had fallen in love._

 


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley finds her way to Jonathan’s hideout.

Harley gripped her suitcase tightly. She was angry. Angry at The Joker. Angry at Batman. Angry at all of Gotham. As far as she was concerned, they could all go into a hole and die.

 

She'd been kicked out… again. But this time, she felt different. She didn't mourn the loss of her _puddin',_ she didn't feel any desire to return right now, as her aching muscles and bruised cheek reminded her.

 

She'd probably end up going back. She always did. She knew her own patterns- it wouldn't be long before Joker called her apologized, and she'd go running back to him. All of her doubts about him would flee in a single instance.

 

She could feel them leaving already... she simply loved him more than life itself more than her own life was worse.

 

She shivered in the chilly rain, wishing that she'd thought to grab a coat. _Of course it'd rain now,_ she brooded, huddling in on herself. She needed to get inside soon. At least the rain hid the tears that flowed down her cheeks.

 

"Red's in Arkham…" She mumbled, pulling her suitcase closer for comfort. She was starting to feel the anger subside and a deep feeling of helplessness settle n her stomach. She _hated_ being alone. She wouldn't survive a night without somewhere to stay.

 

And Selina… she was always busy chasing Batman. Harley definitely didn't want to be part of that.

 

Who else could she go to?

 

_Penguin?_ Only if she had to.

 

 _Hatter?_ Definitely not. The last thing she wanted was to be his Alice.

 

 _Riddler?_ He was tiring to spend more than an hour with. Plus, she never could solve his riddles. He probably saw her as a waste of time.

 

Harley's mind faltered and a tear leaked out of her eye and rolled down her cheek. She was so unsure of her future… but wasn't that just what a Rogue's life was? Danger and uncertainty? She'd always wondered what it was like as a psychologist, and now she had the answer, and she didn't like it.

 

It was just too late to go back.

 

_I want to go back. I want to go back,_ She thought, thinking back at her college days. She'd been happy and successful.  Her teachers lauded her work, all the boys wanted to carry her books, she had friends.. .  _I want to forget this all and go back._

 

She knew that it was impossible now. She couldn't return to a normal life- even if she got declared sane. She'd never even get that far- not with The Joker always hanging in te back of her mind. No matter what she did, she always went back to the empty promises that the life of Harley Quinn promised.

 

The Narrows loomed ahead, large and foreboding. She'd always hated the way that the tall, empty buildings and narrow roads made her feel trapped, but it was the best prospect for one of her type to be.

 

“One of my type...” She whispered, he pace suddenly quickening.

 

There was one person that knew her better than even Red did. One person who was always wiling to lend her a helping hand. One person that she could return to, and maybe, _just maybe,_ reset her life. It wouldn't be perfect, but she could try and return to the old days, even if just for a little while.

 

She smiled slightly, feeling a fleeting flutter of hope rise out of her sinking heart.

 

_ Surely Dr. Crane couldn't turn a poor, lost intern away. _

 

* * *

 

Harley wandered The Narrows,  looking for any familiar face .  Rogues wandered the alleys freely, and at least  _ one  _ person had to have  information on Jonathan Crane.

 

The stench of cigarette smoke hung in the air, making her cringe. She'd always hated the smell, but The Narrows was gonna smell like The Narrows was gonna smell.

 

She walked into the first likely bar, and ordered some water. She _wanted_ to be drunk, to forget everything… but she also wanted to find Jonathan. She couldn't do that if she was too tipsy to walk straight.

 

"Harley Quinn? What are _you_ doing here this fine evening?" A familiar voice asked. Harley set down her drink and sighed.

 

"Hello Eddie."

 

"Is something wrong, Harley? You're crying, and-" The Riddler stopped short, not wanting to finish his sentence. "I'm sorry, Harley.”

 

"I thought he loved me… but I'm beginning to doubt… but I still…" Harley broke down, thee tears streaming down her cheeks. She wiped them away and hoped that Riddler hadn't seen them. Here eyes were still blurred, making the near-empty glass sitting in front of her seem a million miles away.

 

"Is there anything I can do?" He asked, sitting gently next to her. Harley just nodded, barely even paying attention as he set his hand on her shoulder.

 

"I need to find Jonathan Crane. Do you know where he is?" She asked, her voice quivering. Edward's face brightened immediately.

 

"Of course I do. It's the job of a genius to know everything.” The riddler smirked at her, looking for recognition. She barely even noticed. “He's hiding in an old farmhouse a few miles out of town.”

 

"Thank you, Eddie. You're a lifesaver.”

 

"Do you need a ride?" The Riddler asked, picking up his cane eagerly.

 

"Sure, Eddie. Thanks," Harley said, smiling weakly at him.

 

* * *

 

 

Harley was quieter than usual, and Edward certainly noticed it. She wasn't bubbling with laughter and chatter, as she normally was, but was instead staring out of the window forlornly, almost _pensively._

 

So Edward broke the silence in the way he knew best: A riddle.

 

"Riddle me this! If it's information you seek, come and find me. If it's pairs of letters you need, I have consecutively three," The Riddler said, a gleam coming to his eyes behind his mask.

 

"I'm not in the mood," she said dismissively, making the other Rogue pout.

 

"Come on now… this one is easy," he encouraged.

 

"All of them are easy to _you,_ " Harley pointed out, a light, forced laugh entering her voice. The Riddler cringed at the sound of the strained laughter that he was so used to hearing come easily.

 

"That is true," He sighed, not seeing any answer coming from her. "Bookkeeper. You see…"

 

"I get it Eddie. Thank you for trying to cheer me up, but I really just don't feel like it right now," she said, cutting him off.

 

"I'm sorry Harley," The Riddler said again. He cursed himself under his breath as he exited Gotham's city limits. The farmhouse was only a mile or so away now.

 

That mile was driven in silence.

 

The Riddler stopped the car in front of the old farmhouse. It was run-down looking at best, with some of the window shutters hanging off of their hinges precariously and sagging steps.

 

"Thank you for everything, Eddie. I really needed your help tonight," Harley said, giving the man a hug. He smiled slightly, patting her on the back.

 

"Best of luck to you Harley," he said as she nodded and left the car.

 

The Riddler usually wasn't so much of a charitable type. Normally he wouldn't pay Harley much attention. He hadn't ever seen her as a particularly intelligent person.

 

However… seeing the normally laughing, bubbly blonde in such a depressed and… tragic mood. He couldn't ignore that. He prided himself on being better than that sadistic clown who couldn't recognize love from a punch in the face.

 

The Riddler prided himself on having something that could be mistaken for a heart.

 

* * *

 

 

Just as he was dozing off, Jonathan Crane heard a knocking at his door. He bolted up at the sound, grabbing for the cannister of fear toxin he had sitting by his bedside and grabbing his glasses. If it was the police, he was in trouble.

 

He dearly hoped that he didn't have to run. He'd just gotten settled in this farmhouse.

 

"Professor Crane? It's me… Harleen." A wave of memories hit him as she spoke, her voice quiet, almost wavering. She was crying.

 

But the thing that struck him most was her name. She hadn't used that name in years. He'd figured she'd left it behind for good, like she'd left her life behind.

 

_Like she left you behind,_ he reminded himself.

 

_ After she had left, he'd let himself slip away. He started being reckless and had gotten himself caught. He would deny it, but part of him knew that he just wanted to be around her again.  _ _ He wanted to open that door, take her in, heal her, convince her to stay. _

 

_ But the logical part of him stopped him. It always had the power, as it should, and it  _ __knew_ _ _ that Harley would never be happy here. She'd run back to the Joker at her first chance. _

 

"I need someone to stay with…" Harley said. He could hear every agonizing crack that the tears left in her voice.

 

Something in him napped as she spoke. He _had_ to open that door.

 

He sat up and hurriedly walked to the door, and opened it with a creak. As it opened, he saw her, standing there.

 

To say that Jonathan Crane wasn't a little shocked by the blonde's demeanor was an understatement. He had never seen her like this… not at all. He'd never _ever_ seen her look so helpless. So pathetic.

 

"What happened?" He asked, hurriedly ushering her in and sitting her at an old crate that he was using as a table.

 

"Mistah J threw me out.. again. I had a suggestion about our plan… and then he got mad and punched me… and…" Harley broke into unintelligible sobs, unable to continue. She rocked back and forth slowly, tears running freely down her cheeks. “Please Johnny,” She pleaded. “I need you to help me. I want to go back. Back to how it was.”

 

Jonathan didn't even ask what she meant. She was too emotionally vulnerable right now, and his main concerns were the massive and dark bruises littering her arms and neck, and those were just he ones he could see.

 

 _That clown has no right,_ He thought, staring at the broken girl sitting before him. There was no part of her that seemed unhurt. Now that he looked, he saw faded bruises and scars on her arms and wrists beneath the dark, fresh ones. There was a large bruise forming on her right eye, and a huge welt on her shoulder that barely poked out from the shirt she was wearing.

 

"Cheer up, child. You can stay here," He said, awkwardly placing his hand on her back in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture. _“_ _I promise to keep you safe until you feel ready to leave._

 

_ He didn't know what he was doing. He'd given up years ago, after she'd left with Joker, but now that he was back, he felt every ounce of love that he'd felt before. Even as broken as she was now, she was beautiful. _

 

_ Harley nodded and closed her eyes. She looked exhausted. _

 

_“ I have a couch upstairs. It_ _ ' _ _ s a little threadbare and lumpy, but it should do better than a sleeping bag on the ground,” he said, standing up and walking towards the rickety staircase. Harley followed silently, ghostly footsteps echoing throughout the still house. _

 

_“ Thank you, Johnny. I knew I could trust you.”_

 


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley makes a plan, and has some trouble with markers.

While Crane would never admit it, he had a lot of respect for Harleen Quinzel. She was one of the few people that he could tolerate being around, even if she had changed when she met The Joker. Her bright attitude had never annoyed him as much as he thought it should have, and she was knowledgeable enough to hold interesting conversations with, so long as The Joker wasn't around. Something about that clown changed her, but Jonathan had known her before she had been tainted. Brilliant, cheerful, and beautiful.

He really missed that Harley.

Jonathan had been up for a while when Harley arose, sliding down the dusty bannister with a giddy energy. He himself had been peacefully reading  _Phobias: The Science of Fear_ , a personal favorite of his.

"Do ya have any grub, Jonny? I can make some breakfast, if you want." Jonathan cringed at the use of the nickname that she had assigned to him several years ago, and still insisted on using

"I've taken care of that, child," Jonathan said, holding up his plain toast and mug of coffee. "There's some for you in the kitchen."

Harley took off after the food, humming happily. It was a stark difference to her attitude the night before, but Harley had always expressed somewhat erratic mood patterns.

"You know Jonny, maybe I could help you," Harley said, approaching with her own piece of toast, which she'd slathered in strawberry jam.

"Pray tell.. what do you mean, child?" He asked, raising a single eyebrow.

"Well… I don't know what I want to do in life now," she said, pausing slightly before continuing. "So… maybe I could stay here and help you with your experiments, ya know?"

"You mean, be my sidekick?" Jonathan asked, blinking in surprise. The thought hadn't really occurred to him in a while. Back before she'd gone off the deep end, he had dreamed that she might help him pursue the power of fear. She was certainly the right type of person to do it- smart enough to understand what the experiments do and understand their effects, but wouldn't be disturbed by the subject's reactions.

"Yeah. That," Harley said, smiling a little. "I don't wanna go back yet."

That one word.  _Yet._  It stung him like a slap across the face. It was just restating the obvious, but it still hurt.

Harley Quinn would  _always_ return to The Joker.

"Out of the question. I have no need for a sidekick," Jonathan crane said, waving the notion off. Why get attached to something that would simply disappear? It'd happened before, and Jonathan wasn't the type to let himself be burned twice.

Harley just pouted in response. Jonathan held in a bout of light laughter that rose up in his throat at the sight of the childish face. Some things hadn't changed.

"Why not work with Poison Ivy? I'm sure that she would like to break out of Arkham" Jonathan suggested. Harley's eyes brightened at the mention of her friend, and she smiled a little.

"Yeah… Red would like that," Harley said, her smile breaking into a grin. "But you've been so nice to me…"

"As I said, I have no need of a sidekick," He said, rolling his eyes. He then added, "Not that Poison Ivy does either," under his breath. The truth was that  _nobody_ needed a sidekick, but some were willing to humor Harley. Her dependency on others had always bothered Jonathan somewhat. She hated doing anything alone- always needing someone to be with her.

"I guess so..." Harley sighed, pouting. Jonathan felt a light bubble of laughter rise up at the sight of the petty face- one that he'd seen many times before.

Jonathan sat back in the old chair, listening to the wood creak under his weight. He felt at peace, which was not something he generally felt.

He had a strange feeling that this foreign feeling was because of Harleen.

* * *

"Perhaps I could…" Harley muttered as she sat cross-legged on the floor of the farmhouse's living room. She was scribbling all over a blank piece of paper, trying to formulate a foolproof plan to break Red out of Arkham. She'd already memorized the hallways and the optimal ways of entering and exiting, but drawing plan was a good habit for when they changed the security.

She looked down at the map drawn in a vivid orange, which was the only working color of marker that Jonathan had been able to find in the farmhouse. She sighed and started to mark the most optimal path through the asylum.

Harley turned over the half-completed plan and started to scribble on the backside. Without even thinking, she sloppily drew The Joker's face. She sighed, staring at his smile without any expression as the fresh bruise on her cheek tingled. She scribbled the drawing out beyond recognition and doodled a ladybug instead.

She flipped the map back over and glanced at it again, noticing that she'd drawn smiles everywhere on it. She didn't remember adding them, but there they were.

_What is happening to me?_ She asked, carefully striking each and every one of the smiles out.

Her mind was filled with laughter; his laughter. She couldn't think of anything else. A flood of sound, memories, pain… everything linked back to him in her mind.

The orange of the marker was like the colorful ties he wore. The wood beneath her legs felt like the old warehouses she was so used to being in. The red of the decrepit curtains looked like his smile to her.

_He's everywhere._

She glanced down, seeing the bruises and scars on her arms and hands. They were even harsher reminders that  _he didn't care._

_He didn't care, but she did. She cared far too much._

Harley felt her heart begin to race and her breathing get shallow.  _I can't get rid of him. He's there. He sees me._

_Oh i love him,_ She thought, closing her eyes, feeling a tear run down her cheek. The bruises on her arms tingled, and the cuts stung.

Everything hurt so much. She needed to escape. Anything. She just needed out.

Harley ran into the bathroom and let herself cry.

Jonathan Crane sat there, listening to her as she walked around the upstairs. Every once in awhile, he'd hear her singing, talking to herself, or giggling at some untold joke. But now, she wasn't laughing. He only heard sobs.

"Child?" he called up the stairs. he sighed and started walking up to see what was the matter. "Harley, do tell me what is wrong."

He was only answered with broken sobs and whines coming from behind the bathroom door.

"Harley? Is everything alright?" He asked, lightly rapping on the door. "May I come in?"

Something sounding similar to a yes was whined from behind, so he slowly opened the door, finding her sitting on the tile floor, clutching her legs between her arms as if it was her only anchor into the world. "Is everything alright, child?"

"I- I just…" Her words were breaking off as she shook on the ground. "I can't get rid of him. He's still there... " She shivered, and retreated even further into herself. "I don't know what to do." Her words came out as barely above a whisper.

"Do you need to talk about it?" He asked, gently placing a hand on her back.

"I've tried so hard…" She breathed in deeply.

"Come on, child. We'll go make some tea. We can talk it over there," he said, offering her his arm. Harley took it and stumbled down the stairs with him, still sobbing. "Here… sit down." He helped her sit at the old table, going to the stove to put a kettle on.

"I'm so sorry Jonny…" She said, wiping her face. "I-I just… I don't want to be a burden."

"You aren't being a burden, child," Jonathan said, sitting down next to her.

"I'd… I'd better go soon. Night is falling…" She stopped to inhale. "I'm gonna get Red outta there…"

"Not like this," he said, a little more sternly than he meant to. "You're emotionally unstable and are more likely to make a mistake."

"I'm fine.. I really am.." Harley said, her voice wavering. "i just…"

"Calm down child, calm down," he said, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. He didn't really know how to comfort her. "Do you want to talk it over?"

Harley made a noise that was somewhere between a whine and a whimper. "No…"

"Alright then. Please try to-" he glanced down, suddenly seeing a stain of dark red forming on her sleeve. "Harley, is that blood?" He asked, gesturing at her arm. She pulled it away, tears leaking down her face once more.

"Please, let me see. I want to get that treated, if it's bad," He said. Harley nodded and held out her arm. Crane gently grabbed it, pushing her sleeve up as carefully as he could. Her wrist had a long cut down it. Not deep enough to do much damage, but it needed treatment.

"Child..." Crane sighed, grabbing some tissues and wiping away the blood. "Is everything alright?"

"I-I need to... " She said, staring at the cut. "I need t-to control the pain. If I can control it, I feel better."

Crane thought of the other bruises that lay beneath the cut. They hadn't been inflicted by her. She didn't have control over those.

"I understand, Child, but you can't hurt yourself. Please, you're stronger than that," Crane said, looking at her. "I know that you are."

The kettle started boiling, so Jonathan got up and poured the boiling water into a mug.

"Thank you.. Jonny…" harley whimpered as she looked down in shame. "You've helped me so much… and all I do…" She cut off to breathe.

"Child, please get a hold of yourself. I'll dress your cut, and you calm down. You're doing fine," He said as he started steeping the tea.

He walked to the bathroom and took out some medical supplies. Walking back, he found Harley with her eyes closed looking very peaceful.

"Are you alright, child?" He asked, gently placing his hand on her shoulder to let her know he was there. She nodded, biting her lip to keep the tears back. "I'm going to put some antibiotics on the wound. It may sting a little," He said. "One, two, three.." He spread the cream over the wound, and Harley winced, but stayed in place. "Good girl. Now I'm going to wrap it and we'll be done." He said. He bound up the cut, and Harley started to breathe normally again.

"Thank.. you," She said quietly.

"You're welcome child. Did you cut yourself anywhere else?" He asked. She shook her head.

"I was going to…. but then you came," Harley said. "I get like this whenever this happens," She said. " can usually control it… but every once in awhile…" She broke of, her voice quavering. "I don't know what came over me. It was so sudden- I think I may kill myself one day over this. It's so stupid..."

"Nobody wants you to do that, child." Jonathan said hurriedly.

"I… I won't, Jonny." Harley smiled weakly at him, her eyes red and puffy and her cheeks still wet.

"I'll get your tea. You're doing well, child." Jonathan said, quietly. He grabbed the tea and a blanket and returned.

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to leave right now, Child. Perhaps you should wait a couple of days until you go fetch Poison Ivy."

"Okay...' Harley paused and sipped at the tea. "Jonny, will you read to me?" She asked quietly. Jonathan raised his eyebrows and sighed.

"Okay, Harley. If that would help." He wouldn't normally agree, but he felt that the situation called for it.

* * *

Jonathan Crane held The Wizard of Oz in his hands awkwardly, unable to move without waking the sleeping Harley that leaned against him. She'd been asleep for some time, and all he could do was sit there, not quite willing to wake her up.

"I'm glad to see that you're feeling better child," he whispered, smiling a little at the peaceful expression on her face. "I know that you're stronger than that."


End file.
